


whatev

by Lemon_Lemmings



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Comfort, Gen, Hangover, Underage Drinking, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 03:23:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14011107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemon_Lemmings/pseuds/Lemon_Lemmings
Summary: “How’d you know about the pole?”“You’re trending on SpaceTube.”Lance groans and rests his cheek on the rim of the bowl.





	whatev

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of a preemptive, plotless vent blurb. I had an awesome St. Patrick's day. So awesome that I actually haven't been to bed yet and I know there's going to be pain when I wake up T.T
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> Probably a bunch of typos in this, I'm tired and drunk. Buuut I had a great time with my friends and my fam so it's all good.

Lance thinks he’s winning the fight not to puke and then next to him, Hunk does. The echo of fresh spew slapping old spew rattles through his too tight skull and pushes his queasiness over the edge. Acidic fluid sears his throat as it surges up and he snaps forward, clinging to the chrome bowl of the toilet.

Pidge sighs and Lance feels the damp press of the cool cloth to the nape of his neck. Hunk makes a horrible noise and throws up again, large shoulders shuddering as he slumps over the bucket in his lap.

“Okay, don’t drown in your own puke,” Pidge mutters, tugging him back by the strips of his headband.

Lance reaches up for the button to flush, and winces as his fingers fumble in their search. He stops short with a hiss, the motion a knife to his injured wrist.

“You hurt that falling off the pole?” Pidge guesses.

Lance lifts his head, squinting up at her through the fog of his headache.

“How’d you know about the pole?”

“You’re trending on SpaceTube.”

Lance groans and rests his cheek on the rim of the bowl. “Has anyone else seen?”

“Not yet,” Pidge says. “I think it’s only a matter of time though. Your pole dance is trending and someone else recorded Hunk pressing you like a barbell. That one’s on a pretty popular Voltron fan site.”

“That’s not good,” Hunk worries, brows slanting.

“It’s your fault,” Lance grumbles at him.

“How’s it my fault? Your idea to go to the bar.”

“Yeah, but those alien ladies only bought us drinks cause they were thirsting for you hardcore,” Lance whines petulantly. “It’s not fair. Why is it always you?”

“Maybe because Hunk doesn’t use stupid pick up lines.” Pidge rolls her eyes.

If Hunk has any opinion on this, it’s lost in the stew of vomit as he violently heaves once again. Lance’s tries not to listen, but he can’t exactly deafen himself to the sound and his head is throbbing too hard to allow focus on other thoughts. His stomach jumps into his throat and he finds himself following suit.

“Never been this hungover before,” Hunk pants as he picks his head up, a couple chunks clinging to his chin.

Pidge wrinkles her nose and wipes his mouth off. “Well, you guys have no idea what it is you were drinking. It could’ve been straight up poison for all you know.”

“Feels like it was.” Lance gives a soft groan and braces himself on his hands to get up. His wrist gives a sharp jolt at the pressure. Wincing, he backs off. When he sets back the room spins and he figures getting up probably wasn’t a good idea anyway.

“That’s pretty swollen,” Pidge points out, frowning. “Maybe you should get it looked at?”

“Tomorrow,” Lance says. “After we sleep this off.”

“Get him an ice pack or something though,” Hunk mumbles, rubbing at his temple. “Compression wrap, maybe? I’m thinking you sprained that,” he says to Lance.

“Not the way I wanted to end my performance…”

“It was pretty funny though.” Pidge shakes her head, grinning. “I wish I could’ve seen it in person. Now, are you two done throwing up?”

“I am,” Lance sits back against the wall and leans back against it as he stands.

“Think so.” Hunk clumsily brings himself up. “Hope so.”

Pidge peeks her head out the door.

“Okay, coast is clear. Dump the bucket and we’ll get you back to bed.”

Hunk plods over to the toilet and dumps the bucket out, slow so it won’t splash back at them. Lance tries not to choke on the odor that rises, rancid and ripe. It stings eyes until they water and he he squeezes them shut.

They’ve been bothering him since he woke up, his eyes. Pulsing as this relentless ache pounds between them. His head feels like it’s going to explode.

“Come on,” Pidge says.

Lance opens his eyes and follows her out, flagging. Hunk tiredly stumbles alongside him, not much better off. The lights in the hall are far too bright, assaulting his already sore eyes. His mouth is awfully dry and the foul taste of vomit lingers in his mouth like it’s stained his tongue.

Hunk’s room is closest and it’s the one Pidge leads them into. Hunk clambers in first and Lance follows, making sure he gets a grip on the blanket. He forgets to mind his wrist and winces, but hangs on anyway.

“Don’t hog all the covers this time.”

“I don’t hog the covers,” Hunk protests.

“Yes you do,” Pidge and Lance say in unison.

Hunk gives them a sulky look and pouts into his pillow.

“Okay. So i’m gonna get an ice pack, water pouches, and see if I can find some painkillers before everybody’s up and walking around.” Pidge plants her hands on her hips. “What kind of cover story did you come up with?”

“Um,” Lance says eloquently.

Hunk muffles a miserable moan into his pillow.

“Neither of you came up with a cover story. Great.” Pidge rolls her eyes. “You guys are useless.”

Lance’s stomach twists uncomfortably but it’s not from queasiness. He’s so worried about actually being useless that the accusation bites even when it is just in jest. Going out and getting wasted wasn’t exactly the way to prove himself, either. True, neither he nor Hunk had planned on it.

But they could’ve left and they didn’t.

“I’ll just have to come up with something.”

“We’re sharing a head cold?” Hunk suggests.

“Only explains why you’re laying low, not why you were out all night.”

“The Red Lion had a tantrum and refused to give us a ride?”

“That’s plausible, Red’s finicky like that. I’ll think on it a little more. Is there anything else you guys need me to grab?”

“‘Nother bucket,” Hunk mutters. “Just in case.”

“I’ve got nothing, but shut the lights off.”

“Sure.” Pidge slides the knob down to the darkness setting. “You guys owe me so big.”

Neither of them deny it. She shuffles out and Lance rolls onto his side, trying to get comfortable. It’s not easy when his stomach is cramping and it feels like his brain is a bowling bowl compressed by his skull.

“Your wrist okay?” Hunk asks, flitting over it with concern.

“Yeah, as long as I don’t move it too much. My head, on the other hand…”

Hunk snorts wryly. “Me too.”

“I think I had fun though.” Albeit, he feels a little fuzzy on the details. He remembers making some friends and making them laugh.

“Yeah,” Hunk agrees. “Felt good to let loose for a little while.”

“Was it worth it?” Lance wonders, unsure if he’s teasing or actually asking.

Hunk shrugs. “Guess it depends on how good Pidge covers for us.”

“Who’s wrath you more scared of? Shiro’s or Allura’s?”

“Yes.”

Lance laughs dismally and buries his head beneath the pillow.

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  Maybe I'll drabble a prequel to this when I'm awake?? I can't think of a title, please don't hurt me.   
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End file.
